


We Must Be Killers

by hismementomori



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-17 23:36:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14841368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hismementomori/pseuds/hismementomori
Summary: You’re offered a deal, come out of retirement and you can have the one thing you’ve always wanted. When you accept, you find yourself in the company of Sam and Dean Winchester, and not only do they make your life difficult, they have you questioning yourself, but more importantly, your employer.





	We Must Be Killers

**Author's Note:**

> This is short, but it’s more of an interest check. I’ve never written a polyamorous relationship before and I’m eager to try. If there’s any at all, I’ll continue. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> We Must Be Killers - Mikky Ekko

The marble floor sends a shiver up your spine as you step from the shower. You wrap your hair in one towel and another around your body once you dry any lingering droplets. The water did nothing for the aches in your muscles, but at least it washed away your sins of the day.

Large picture windows frame the evening sky, grey clouds drifting across and smother the nightline. Bare feet take you from the ensuite bath to the kitchenette where a folded card sits on the counter and the the air is sucked from your lungs.

A trembling hand reaches out and you’re half tempted to throw away the card, but you cannot deny this call.

_Glasshouse, 7:00 PM._

Numb, you find your way to the closet, your evening plans changed by silver script on black cardstock.

It takes you no more than an hour to get ready, you know she doesn’t like to be kept waiting. The taxi stops just short of the entrance, giving way to the valet. You enter the busy gastro-fusion bisto two minutes before seven and pass the hostess the card. The color in her face drains, but she leads you through the crowd of foodies and bloggers to a private table.

Her back is towards you, but the power she emanates is unfathomable and burns you to your core. “Sit,” she motions to you over his shoulder. Your step falters slightly, but you manage to slip into the seat across from her. The waiter fills your glass with a rosé and you place the napkin across your lap, avoiding eye contact. “I want to make a deal.” You lift your glass to rest against your lips signalling that you’re listening. “I’ll give you want if you come out of retirement.”

The alcohol bites at your tongue and you dare to look up, she’s staring at you with an unreasonable expression. “For how long?”

“As long as it takes to get the job done.” She lifts a hand into the air where a black book materializes between her fingers. “Every name without question.” The book is placed on the table and slides next to your plate.

Your fingers dance across the moleskin and your tips burn from the touch. “The same deal as before,” your voice is shaking with uncertainty.

“Exactly the same as before when you failed to finish,” she reminds you, dark eyes narrowing. “It’s rare that such an offer is given twice, it’d be wise for you to take it.” She sits back in her chair and reaches for her own glass, looking at you over the rim as she leisurely sips.

Food is placed in front of you, a mixture of white foam, green puree, and medium rare steak. “I could take the deal off the table and have you do the job anyway.” It’s a threat she would follow through with. “Going once…” Your knife slices through the meat, tapping against the plate from your shaking hands. “Going twice…” You spear the piece with your fork and bring it to your lips. “Go-”

“I’ll do it,” you agree weakly, shoving the steak into your mouth.

“Everything is as it was.” She snaps her fingers and a leather duffle falls next to your feet. “Keep the collateral damage to a minimum.” You nod without looking up from your plate. “Finish this and it’ll all be over.” She’s gone without ceremony, leaving you alone and quivering.

\---

The book rests in the middle of your bed as you pace the room. It’s calling out to you, begging you to turn its pages, read its words. This would be the last job you’ll ever take, but it won’t be the easiest. You’ve tried it once before and failed miserably, but stuck with the guilt and the terror it brings.

You turn away from the ledger and to the bag that you were also given, sitting ominously on the chair in the corner of the room. Without a thought, your feet close the distance and your fingers grab the zipper to pull it open. Cash, cards, phones, tablet, weapons, everything you could possibly need. You swallow hard and hastily zip it closed, rushing to your closet to change.

It’s near one in the morning, but you find yourself in a crap bar on the east side of town, dragging from a bottle of cheap beer and poking at the bowl of Corn Nuts in front of you. “You don’t look like the type that lurks around these parts,” a gruff slides up beside you.

You suck on your teeth and turn to spot a pair of green eyes and plump lips pulled into a grin. “What type am I, exactly,” your head cocks to the side and you twist on the stool to face him.

“Fifth Avenue, Chanel carrying, weekly yacht cruises,” he shrugs, snatching a handful of nuts and tosses a few into his mouth.

“Is this some kind of negging,” you point the lip of your bottle at him, “want me to make you prove that I’m just as filthy as this sticky, beer stained floor?”

“No, actually. I was hoping you could help me out,” he flashes two rows of pearly white teeth. “I need to get into a place, but they won’t let me in unless I’ve got a pretty lady on my arm.”

You stare at him, eyes running over every inch of his face, connecting each freckle, “And why would I do that?”

He laughs and leans in, pretty lips tugging up into a seductive smirk, “Because I can make you feel as dirty as you want when we’re done.”


End file.
